Chapter 3

D ear Anadae Helm,

I’m writing to personally congratulate you on being selected as a recipient of the Vaadt Continuing Education Scholarship, and to welcome you to Sylveren University. You were chosen out of hundreds of candidates on the basis of your personal essay and aptitude tests, and I believe you will find a home here at Sylveren.

She’d read the acceptance letter over and over again, until every word was committed to memory. The thick paper had acquired so many creases from her clutching fingers and being folded or unfolded to be read again that it was threatening to tear in half.

It might’ve felt like a dream, except Anadae had been too stressed for her situation to retain any idyllic qualities. She’d been notified of her eligibility to take the aptitude test within weeks of applying for the scholarship, though that hadn’t even required a trip up to the Valley of Sylveren, only a few hours at a testing center in Graelynd’s capital, Grae Port. She’d demonstrated her ability to channel her magic, calling light and extinguishing it at will. The test would’ve been nearly done at that point if this had been her first foray into secondary education via an Initiate’s degree. For the first tier of Adept levels—the entry point of graduate studies—and with a focus on water magic, the remainder of the test had centered around evaluating Anadae’s ability to manipulate water. Lots of fussing with the color and transparency and temperature of varying amounts of it; freezing a jarful of it solid, transmuting it from ice to boiling liquid without breaking the glass. Even though she’d taken longer than the others undergoing aptitude tests the same day, she took comfort in the knowledge that she’d still been able to complete all the tasks within the allotted time.

Nor had she had much time for fretting afterward; the acceptance letter followed mere days later.

Anadae took her acceptance letter out and read it for the umpteenth time before laying it on the table in the parlor. She made herself sit in a chair, leaving the wrinkled ivory paper out instead of cramming it back into a pocket. No more stalling. Anadae couldn’t put off this reveal any longer. Her mother would be home soon, and Anadae had already told Brint to be here to uphold his end of their bargain. Perhaps no more than an hour from now, she’d be free of him and the manacle of their engagement, and she could embark on her new journey as a mage unburdened. Future-Anadae would be free of the dread curdling in Present-Anadae’s belly at the impending conversation.

Though she’d told her parents that she wanted to reevaluate her role in the Helm family business, she hadn’t found a way to voice her interest in magical study. Even now, a cowardly part of her dug in its heels at the sight of the letter. She hadn’t sent in her acceptance of the scholarship yet, though the deadline loomed. She could still keep on as she had, not throw herself into this foolish venture. What business did she, a twenty-nine-year-old woman with an Initiate level degree in general studies, have attending a magic-focused school like Sylveren? It was absurd.

You were chosen out of hundreds of candidates.

The notion made her feel exhilarated and sick in turn. She hadn’t felt like she’d earned a victory in so long. Sometimes, the letter tasted of vindication. At other times, Anadae’s mind turned in a loop of denial and imposter syndrome. Because really, at her age? With so little training over the years, aptitude tests be damned. Perhaps Brint was right; it was embarrassing. Disrespectful of the institution, asking them to consider her application.

She glanced at the wall clock. Brint was late. Unsurprising, but nonetheless irritating. Anadae stood and began to pace, running back through her practiced argument to convince Mama that this was Anadae’s choice, and a good one. Sylveren University! Chosen out of hundreds of candidates! This wasn’t a decision made on a lark, nor was Anadae doing anything to sully the Helm name. Plenty of people had gaps between Initiate levels and pursuing further degrees. Brint himself hadn’t immediately gone for his Adept Two—that decision had only come about this year. They’d both be going for secondary degrees … he was just further along the path. He had been encouraged to pursue more schooling, unlike—

Anadae made herself take a long, slow breath. The past didn’t matter. It all changed now. Mina Helm was both educated and practical—she would see Anadae’s reasoning. Couldn’t argue with the official document on the table recognizing Anadae’s worth.

Which was necessary, because Anadae needed her mother’s status in extracting her personal finances from the family accounts. The scholarship covered tuition and provided a small stipend, but it wouldn’t be enough to live on. An unfortunate side effect of Anadae having been in the family business for her entire life was that she had always enjoyed access to the Helm account, never needing one of her own. Setting one up hadn’t been a problem. A significant transfer of funds, however—that had given the bank pause. Anadae couldn’t proceed without alerting her parents. The thought of taking the money and disappearing in the night had crossed her mind, but only for a moment. She was determined to go down the path of magic, but it would be a lie to say she wasn’t hopeful for her family’s blessing.

Anadae glanced up as motion at the parlor door caught her eye. “About time! I was expecting you—”

She faltered as not Brint but her mother walked in. “Mama.” Her heart sank further as her younger sister Calya followed Mina Helm into the parlor. “Caly.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Mina said, eyes roving over Anadae’s face before settling on the paper laid out on the table.

“You didn’t run into Brint out there, did you?” Anadae said.

Disgust bashed against panic as both her mother and sister shook their heads. Great. An audience for an already uncomfortable conversation, and her backup was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t gotten the time wrong. Brint was punctual when he cared to be … but today was not one of those days. As she should’ve assumed. Lying bastard.

Forcing a tight smile, Anadae offered the acceptance letter to her mother.

“Sylveren,” Mina said without looking at the paper. At Anadae’s nod, Mina sighed. Her eyes hardly touched the letter before they were back on Anadae’s face. “When did you apply for this?”

“Months ago.”

Calya made a sound at that, but Anadae couldn’t tell if it was surprise or dismay. The four years separating them had grown wide over time, and though they were not estranged, Anadae had never really known her little sister well. Once Anadae went off to the Valley, that gulf would only widen. That she couldn’t decide if she felt any particular way about it probably said something about them both.

“Ana.” Her mother pressed the letter back toward Anadae, eyes closing as if steeling herself for a fight.

“I’m going.” The words spilled out of her, unprompted, neither defiant nor a plea for understanding. More a statement, softly spoken. A touch apologetic.

“This goes against everything we’ve raised you to be,” Mina said, her tone even. “Everything you’ve worked toward.”

Anadae wanted to shrivel inward, struggled to keep the burn in her eyes from turning fully into tears. The boldness she’d felt in finally being free of caring what Brint thought evaporated at her mother’s disappointment. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s what I want.”

“What you want,” Mina said quietly. “You’d be leaving just to start over, after all this time—that’s what you want? ”

“They—they think I have merit.”

“What about the Avenors? Or your work for the company? People will think—”

“I’m not marrying Brint.” The words came out in a rush. Anadae winced, eyes darting between her mother’s narrowing expression and Calya’s surprise. She pressed on, voice wobbling, “We’ve agreed to call off the engagement.”

“Brint agreed to this? You’ve already discussed it with him?”

“Yes. He’s supposed to be here…” Anadae cast a hopeful glance toward the door even though she knew it’d be empty. Brint had never planned on being here. She hadn’t heard of anything amiss with Avenor Guard’s projects in the months since they’d made their pact, which was all well and good, she supposed, except it meant Brint’s business infidelities were useless as blackmail. Something he had grasped quicker than her.

“Perhaps he recognized the foolishness of this”—Mina’s mouth twisted—“plan.”

“Mama.”

The quiet disappointment from before vanished as Mina glared. “Your father is co-sponsoring an important bill to the Lower Council soon. This kind of publicity is an embarrassment, Ana. Breaking off a partnership with our dear friends? We don’t do that.”

“Surely, we aren’t so archaic that a business merger relies on marrying—”

“You are a Helm,” Mina said. “Endeavor to act like one.”

“Helm Naval was built on a water enchantment. Your magic!” Anadae threw her hands up. “I’m only asking for a chance to study.”

“We didn’t raise you to be so selfish. Think of—”

“I have done everything you’ve asked of me!” Anadae cried. “When was the last time I asked for something of my own?”

“This isn’t the time to start.”

“It never is.”

Not trusting her voice to remain level, Anadae brushed past Calya as she made for the stairs. She was probably too old to be storming off to her room, but if she spent another second at that table, she’d scream. Bad enough that her mother already thought she was failing as a Helm without adding a loss of composure to the list.

Her mother started to call her name, then broke off with an irritated huff. The sound only bolstered Anadae’s resolve to keep climbing the stairs. She thought her sister would stay behind, but Calya followed, unspeaking until Anadae’s bedroom door was closed behind them.

“Why, Ana?” Calya said. “We’re so close to having everything.”

“What are you talking about?” Anadae tried to sit, but nervous energy had her standing again and pacing in front of the window.

“HNE,” Calya said, pronouncing it haitch-nee . She sat on the bed. “Our darling parents are getting so involved with Father’s transpo division work, eventually they’re going to turn HNE’s operations to us. Would’ve been to you, because eldest. And you had all your security connections from Avenor. You’re giving it all up!”

“I didn’t—they’re not handing over the company. And if you think I have any sway at Avenor Guard, then you haven’t been paying attention. For years,” Anadae added, sourness curling her lip.

“Not right away.” Calya made an exasperated noise. “But we were in position. We were going to get more opportunities with the AG merger. Brint’ll be off chasing military contracts. He wouldn’t get in the way.”

“You should marry him, then.”

“Don’t go, Ana. There’s so much to do with HNE. Why do you want to go up to the Valley anyway? All it does there is rain. Stay. In a few years, we’ll co-run this place.”

Anadae stared at her sister, equal parts stung and filled with longing. Where Anadae largely took after their mother and her Hanyeok-descent looks, Calya, with her ruddy complexion and curly hair leaning more toward chestnut brown than black, had so much of Andrin Helm’s mix of Hanyeok and Graelynd in her features. The squared face, how it held a note of austerity as she talked, even when she was happy. The surety in her voice. Anadae had always known her sister took after their father, but somewhere along the way the transformation had completed, and she’d never noticed. Until now, as the sisters spoke of their goals with frankness.

Only, too late. The afraid part of Anadae wanted to take the safety of known things her sister offered. Yet, standing in her childhood bedroom, Anadae knew only cages. The familiarity of Helm Naval held out as bait to bring her back in line.

A shout drifted up from below.

“Sounds like Father got the news,” Calya said.

“Yes,” Anadae muttered, “and not in a giving mood.”

Calya raised her brows. “What were you hoping for? You just told us that you want to abandon us. And you’ve been planning it for months.”

“Not abandon,” Anadae said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve been unhappy for a while.” No one had been listening.

“What about all those plans once we had the merger with AG?”

“What about them?” Anadae cried. “When was the last time we planned anything?”

Calya sniffed, her features pinching with a short, dismissive shrug. “Fine, then, go to Sylveren. You’ll get the skills to become head researcher here when you’re done. I can work on Father and the Avenors to keep the merger on the table even without the engagement.”

“That’ll be difficult,” Anadae said, glancing away, “seeing as I’m studying environmental restoration.”

“What? Why?” Calya’s nose wrinkled. “You’re not a grovetender. There’s no money in—”

“It’s how I want to use my magic.”

Calya stood, folding her arms across her chest and jutting her chin out in challenge. “You are abandoning us. Running from anything to do with being a Helm.”

“I’ve been pushed out of anything that doesn’t revolve around being Mrs. Brint Avenor for years. You never noticed.” Anadae shook her head, pointing at Calya when she started to argue. “None of you noticed. None of you listened to me. Where are the supposed opportunities being married off to Brint was supposed to get me?”

“You’re still just enga—”

“They’re all lies, Caly. I’ve been stuck with him for years. I don’t love him, and I’m not—”

“Love,” Calya sneered. “This isn’t fantasyland. Love is a tale for children. Grow up, Ana.”

Anadae gaped at her little sister. At the callous words, the coldness in her expression. She knew Calya was driven, had grand ambitions for the family’s company. But the disdain in her eyes, dripping like venom from her lips, Anadae hadn’t expected it. In her anger at her family for seeing only what they wished—and Anadae stood firm in that belief—a flicker of guilt came with the realization that she’d lost sight of Calya, too. Seen only a zeal for work instead of this derision.

“The real world marries for gain. I thought you were just being obstinate to Mother, but if you really think it’s archaic?” Calya made a disgusted noise. “You brought this on yourself. Don’t blame us for unhappiness made of your own ignorance.”

The shouting below them had stopped, but Anadae could hear intermittent louder rumbles through the floorboards, penetrating the taut silence that hung between the sisters.

“I don’t want HNE the way you do,” Anadae said, hands splaying in a helpless gesture.

“That, sister dearest, is obvious.” Calya stalked out of the room.

Anadae watched her disappear down the hall into her own bedroom, the door snapping shut. Tears burned in her eyes, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep them at bay, blinking until her vision was passably clear. The anger and frustration that had buoyed Anadae mere moments before was gone, leaving her heartsick.

But not swayed.

Fingers clenched around the wrinkled acceptance letter tucked safely in her pocket, Anadae slipped away from her room, ghosting down the stairs. She didn’t go by the parlor; instead, she walked to the front door without pause. Went through it. Turned her back on her childhood home and made her way toward the harbor, lip bitten through to bleeding.